


Half the time we're gone but we don't know where...

by KeepGoing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magic!Stiles, New York New York, Sex, Teen Wolf Big Bang, Zen Derek, derek is stupid as usual, mention of claudia and talia friendship, professer hale, stiles goes to college, teen wolf rewritten, the hales and the stilinskis are connected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-08 00:00:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4282974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepGoing/pseuds/KeepGoing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Teen Wolf wasn't about Scott McCall getting bitten by a werewolf? What if it was about the Hale family and Claudia Stilinski? What if they were connected more than the show has let on? Derek promised his mother he would look after Claudia Stilinski's son, Stiles, after her death. She was special; and so is her son.</p>
<p>But when Derek loses his own family and his feelings for Stiles turn into something more, promises get broken as Stiles is left alone and Derek takes off for New York.</p>
<p>But fate always intervenes. Especially when it comes to the Hales and the Stilinski's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half the time we're gone but we don't know where...

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Teenwolfbigbang over at Livejournal.
> 
> Art in this fic is done by the lovely and beautiful sammycolt. (link to her masterpost will be added shortly)
> 
> Title of fic taken from "The only living boy in New York" by Simon and Garfunkel. 
> 
> Comments are love. ENJOY. 
> 
> P.S: Yes I know there are Taylor Swift lyrics through out this fic. Please don't judge me ;)

  
  
[](http://photobucket.com/)   
  
****

Prologue:

Derek watches as his mother hangs up the receiver of the phone onto the wall and wipes her eyes. Her back is to him as he sits at the table in the kitchen table analyzing over a geometry problem.

“Mom?”

Talia Hale turns, her eyes red. 

“You okay? What’s wrong?” Derek looks at his mother with worried eyes.

“Oh honey.” She pulls up a chair next to her son, brushing his dark hair off his forehead. “Remember Claudia? My friend?”

Derek nods. “She brings those cookies I like.”

Talia smiles. “Yes. Her. Well…” She sniffles and takes a deep breath. “She’s passed away. That was Dr. Deaton.”

“Oh.” Derek feels his chest begin to ache. For his mother. And for the nice woman who used to bring him cookies and tell him stories about fairies and magical things in the woods. Even before he found out he was a werewolf. “I’m sorry.”

“I know, honey. Thank you.” She pauses, eyeing her son. “Claudia was very special. Do you know her son? Stiles?”

Derek shakes his head. “Not really. I’ve seen him a few times around, but I’ve never spoken to him.” He thinks for a moment. “Do you think I should...say something to him? Tell him I’m sorry about his mom?”

“Aw, my sweet baby.” Talia rubs her son’s cheek with her thumb. “That’s very nice of you, but for now I think it’s best to let him deal with this on his own with his father. But just like his mother, Stiles is very very special. One day he will grow up to be one of the most powerful emissaries our kind has ever seen. He will need you. Long after I am gone.”

“What do you mean, Mom?” Derek grabs his mother’s hand that is resting on his face. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“No, no. I’m just saying. You have to promise me. You have to promise that when the time comes you will protect him. Look after him.” 

Derek looks into his mother’s dark eyes. “When will I know when the right time is?”

Talia smiles. “Let your heart tell you.”  
  


_*****Nice to meet you, where you been? I could show you incredible things. Magic, madness, heaven, sin…*****_

Derek feels it before he even makes it across the preserve. The erratic heartbeat. The heavy breathing. The vibration of bones underneath skin. And the smell.

Innocence, hyperness, and pure teenager smell. 

And his instinct to PROTECT overwhelms him. 

He knew this day would come. He knew that one day the boy he had promised his mother he’d protect above everything else; a promise his mother had made to another mother a long time ago; would be old enough for Derek to finally intervene in a more face to face way. 

He’d always watched from a distance. He’d always checked up on the boy, especially after his mother, whom Derek only thought before as the kind woman who knew how to bake wonderful cookies had finally passed. And that’s when the instinct really took full force. He’d never made real contact, just watched from a far. 

Then Derek’s own mother died, and he had to grieve himself. He felt pain from the loss of two mothers; the sorrow radiating from the boy he promised to protect gently seeping into his own turmoil. They were one in pain. In guilt. In things they should have done or said. 

Derek doesn’t know much about the boy other than what his mother had told him. But somehow Derek feels that this boy is even more special than he will ever know. 

And if he’s not careful, it could be the end of him. 

Derek hears a second heartbeat as he gets deeper into the woods. And shallow breathing. He grips the inhaler in his jacket pocket and walks into the clearing as two boys’ eyes search frantically amongst leaves and broken branches. 

“This is private property.” He barks, startling the boys. His boy; with deep warm honey brown eyes and long thin limbs; his eyes widen in an emotion Derek cannot quite make out. 

“Uh, sorry we didn’t know.” His boy answers. He eyes Derek like he knows him. Of course he does. Everyone knows Derek; the orphan. One of the only members left of the Hale family. He knows the tragedy and rumors associated with his name and face. 

Derek reaches into his pocket and tosses the inhaler to his boy’s friend. “You shouldn't be in the woods at night. It’s dangerous.” He narrows his eyes at his boy.

“No worries. My dad’s the Sheriff.” His boy smirks and smacks his friends arm. “Right, Scotty?”

“Um, right. We should go. I have work. Uh, thanks. I’d die without this.” ‘Scotty’ waves his inhaler at Derek, nodding.

“Stay out of the woods. I’m serious. You have no idea what could be out here.” Derek watches as the two boys nod at him, turning and booking it back to the main road. 

“Nothing as scary as you.” He hears his boy mumble.

Derek smirks.  
  


************************************

It’s like Stiles has a permanent music player in his head. His brain sings all day. And sometimes his brain forces lyrics to come out of his mouth as well.

Like right now, as he meanders down the hall toward his locker, for some reason, his brain is forcing Taylor Swift lyrics to fall from his lips. Stiles isn’t even sure HOW he knows this song, as he firmly believes Taylor Swift is some sort of form of the anti-christ. But he can admit, for all intents and purposes, some of her tunes are catchy. 

Stiles isn't sure where all his thoughts come from, they just appear. Sometimes it gets him into trouble. Sometimes his thoughts overwhelm him to the point of insomnia and the inability to concentrate. Like at school. All the time. 

Sure his grades are near perfect. The only one riding on his heels for highest GPA in Beacon Hills High School is Lydia Martin, but that’s just because she’s perfect. In every way possible. 

And she ignores Stiles like the plague. 

Maybe it’s because he sings Taylor Swift songs in the hallway. 

No one will ever know. It’s one of those mysteries of the universe, he supposes. 

He twirls the dial on his locker, his brain now deciding a Tupac song is better than Taylor Swift and he rummages through his mess of a life in front of him, grabbing all the wrong books but the one he needs for Econ. There is a minor possibility he left it at home. 

Okay, it’s a huge possibility. Okay he did. He did leave his book at home. Because it’s not here. 

He closes his locker with a huge sigh, his eyes closing in frustration. Like Finstock needs ANY more ammunition to make his life a living hell. 

“Tupac is better than Taylor fucking Swift.”

Stiles screams, legit screams, at the top of his lungs when he realizes there is someone next to him. Like RIGHT next to him. All up in his personal space. And talking to him. In a low rumbly voice he does not recognize as Scott’s, which really is the only person who really talks to him in school. Other than Jackson who normally just yells insults at him. 

Well Danny talks to him too. But not about Tupac. Danny’s more into the dance hits. 

When Stiles finally gets his bearings, and opens his eyes from his mini stroke, he finds leather just ALL IN HIS FACE. 

Everywhere. 

Leather. 

And the smell of wood. Trees to be exact. 

Like this person has been rolling in fall leaves. 

And as Stiles’ senses begin to come back to normal, he realizes the person who just talked about a 90’s rapper with him was Derek Hale. In the flesh. All the flesh. All the beautiful flesh.

What. Was. That?

Did Stiles brain REALLY just think Derek Hale was beautiful?

“I...uh…” Stiles stammers. “WHAT?”

Derek ghosts a hint of a smile on his lips. “I prefer old school rap myself though.”

“Like the humpty dance?” Stiles spits out and immediately regrets it. Did he REALLY just say that? He normally has trouble getting coherent thoughts out of his mouth, but it’s not just that in this moment. He can’t even form THOUGHTS in their own right. 

Derek actually smiles and Stiles feels his knees go weak. It’s not like he can't appreciate a good looking guy. Danny is a good looking guy. Hell, even his best friend Scott is a good looking guy. But Derek Hale...he’s a new species of good looking. It’s like...Greek God status good looking. The kind of guy who stops traffic good looking. 

The kind that makes Stiles think twice about his sexuality. 

He’s watched gay porn. He’s had wet dreams where guys have been plowing into him instead of Stiles plowing into some girl. Usually Lydia. 

Stiles is pretty sure Derek has made an appearance once or twice in his dreams without him even knowing it.

Stiles takes a deep breath and finally shoves his brain out of his daze. “Um, what are you even doing here? Didn’t you graduate like 10 years ago?” 

Derek narrows his eyes. “I’m not that old.”

“How old is not that old?” Stiles raises an eyebrow. 

“Old enough.” Derek answers looking around the hallway, his body stiffening.

“Okay, well then Mr. Vague, can you answer my question now? What is Derek Hale doing in the high school hallway?”

“Looking for you.” Derek answers as if it’s a perfectly normal answer. 

“Excuse me?” Stiles flails. “What for?”

“To make sure you’re keeping out of trouble.” Derek answers matter of factly. He leans his shoulder against the lockers, looking at Stiles through long dark lashes. 

“I’m pretty sure I have a Sheriff father for that, thanks.” Stiles snorts. 

“He isn't doing a very good job of it.”

“Fuck you!” Stiles yells, causing people to turn and look at Stiles Stilinski, the always benched lacrosse player talking to one of the most beautiful men ever and also possible criminal, Derek Hale. 

Derek frowns. “You shouldn't be in the woods at night. It’s dangerous.” 

“So you’ve told me already.” Stiles pauses. “That’s seriously why you’re here? To give me some lecture on wandering around in the dark?”

“Amongst other things. I’m sure I can find something else to lecture you about.” Derek mumbles. 

“And what exactly is your fascination with me? Aren’t there other teenagers you can stalk?” Stiles tries to move past the wall of muscle but it blocks his path, furrowing his brow at him. 

“It’s important I keep you safe.”

Stiles steps back as Derek leans further into his personal space. Wait, is Derek SNIFFING him?

“Why’s that?” Stiles finds himself whispering.

Derek’s face turns ghost white, swallowing and his body stiff again.

“I promised your mother.”  
  


***************************************

Derek knows what a panic attack looks like. He’s had one or two in his time. But he’s never seen a panic attack happen to someone he’s connected to. On such an emotional level. It’s strange. He barely knows this boy. He doesn't know his favorite band or color. He doesn't know what his favorite food is or what movie he’s seen 20 times.

But he feels Stiles in his bones. He feels his emotions. His guilt. His sadness. His happiness. His darkness; a darkness Derek wonders if is shown to anyone else or if Stiles keeps so deep inside him it eats away at his heart. Derek knows that all too well. 

So when Derek admits the truth; that he’s there because of Claudia Stilinski; he can feel the crumble inside Stiles heart. It makes Derek’s chest ache. And when Stiles falls into Derek’s arms, right there in the hallway of Beacon Hills High School, after his eyes rolled back into his head, Derek feels his whole world finally align just to have himself wrapped around the boy he swore to protect. 

He didn't know when he made the promise to his mother, that the boy she told him would one be one of the most powerful emissaries the Hale pack had ever known, was also going to turn out to be his soulmate. 

He gets a lot of shifty looks as he has Stiles in his arms as he carries him to his car. Stiles, passed out like a drunken frat boy, flops into the back seat of the Camaro, his head softly hitting the leather. 

Derek isn't sure where to even take him. But he knows he had to Stiles out of there. He figures Stiles’ house is the best option and as he pulls onto Stiles’ street he realizes the Sheriff’s cruiser isn't in the drive, so they are safe. After fishing around in Stiles’ back pocket; his perfectly round ass keeping his house and jeep keys secure in his jeans; he gets the boy inside, plopping him down onto his bed, face first.

And that’s when Stiles wakes up flailing and screaming as if he was being murdered. He jumps up, taking a ninja stance and reaching for the baseball bat next to his bed. 

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!!?” Stiles screams, swinging. Derek grabs the bat securely after the second swing and growls low in his chest.

“Calm down. You passed out.” Derek grabs the bat from Stiles’ hand and places it gently on the bed. “Are you okay?”

“Am I...what? Am I okay!?” Stiles spits out. “No, I’m not OKAY. Derek freaking Hale is in my bedroom AFTER he shows up at my school, mind you, and AFTER he tells me he knew my fucking DEAD MOTHER! So no, Captain Obvious, I am not OKAY!”

Derek flinches. “I didn't know your mother. My mother did.”

“Oh.” Stiles calms for a moment. “So?”

“So, she told my mother to protect you, and she promised. But now she’s gone and it’s my job to. You know, protect you.” Derek clears his throat. This kid makes him nervous. NO ONE makes him nervous. 

Stiles narrows his eyes. “I think I would know if my mother was friends with the Hales. You guys have quite the reputation, you know.”

“Yeah?” Derek folds his arms. “Like what?’

“Like...like...I don't know. Stuff! Bad stuff! Mysterious stuff!” Stiles wiggles his fingers evilly at him. Derek smirks. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Your mother was special. She and my mother had a special...understanding. Connection, you could say.” Derek watches as Stiles’ eyes widen and he can hear his heart rate begin to quicken. Derek sighs. “Not THAT kind of connection. Christ.”

“Well how am I supposed to know!? You come in here, STALK ME, and tell me these crazy stories about how apparently your mom and my mom were BFF’s. It’s just absurd. And I’m just supposed to go along with it. I’m supposed to believe that you are supposed to make sure I’m safe. Why didn't she ask, I don't know, my DAD, THE SHERIFF, to make sure I was safe, huh? You know what I think? I think you’re some kind of creepy pedophile.” Stiles nods quickly. 

“Stiles. I’m only 22.” 

“You can still be a pedophile at 22!” Stiles argues. 

“Sure. If you were 5. But you’re not. You’re 16.”

“Almost 17.” Stiles mumbles.

Derek raises an eyebrow.

“So? What’s the answer, huh? Don’t have one?” Stiles crosses his arms now, in defensive stance. He glances down at the bat on the bed, and Derek knows he’s planning his next move. 

“The answer is, it's complicated. We, the Hales, have special skills. Skills that your mother knew about. Skills she knew would keep you safer than the average...Sheriff.” Derek eyes the bat too, just in case. 

“Special skills? What are you liked trained assassins, or something? OH MY GOD. WAS MY MOM LIKE A SECRET SPY OR SOMETHING? HOLY SHIT.” Stiles’ eyes widen and he steps closer to Derek. It makes Derek’s skin catch fire. 

“No, she wasn't a spy and we aren’t assassins. Well, not really.” Derek answers, the urge to run his fingers along pale skin overwhelming him. 

Stiles frowns. “Dude, you gotta give me something. You can’t just expect me to go along with this.”

Derek sighs. “Can't you just trust I have your best intentions at heart?”

“Trust you? Dude, do you even KNOW who you are?” Stiles laughs.

Derek rolls his eyes. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”

Stiles gives him a small smirk, eyebrow arched and sits on the edge of his bed, patting the spot next to him. “So prove me wrong.”  
  


_*****Saw you there and I thought oh my god, Look at that face; you look like my next mistake…*****_

So that’s how it starts. Stiles isn't usually one to just trust someone. Especially someone like Derek Hale. But it was something about the look in Derek’s eyes when he talked about his mother. Both their mothers. It just didn't seem like something he was physically capable of lying about.

So Scott was giving him a bunch of shit. He’s heard the rumors too. Everyone knows the story. The Hale house fire story. How Derek’s entire family pretty much burned to death, leaving him as one of the last living Hales. Stiles knows he has an uncle, somewhere. Last he heard he was still in an assisted living facility. He got burned pretty badly. 

So Stiles understands the loss. He gets that Derek is pretty much alone. At least Stiles has his dad and Scott. Derek has no one. And even though Derek hasn't been offering up much in the way of information about HOW exactly his mother knew the Hales all those years ago, he does tell Stiles what he remembers about Stiles’ mom. 

“I remember sitting at the dining room table one night. I wouldn’t eat my salad. Laura, my sister, kept making fun of me from the kitchen because I was the last one at the table. It was like 2 hours after dinner and my mother would not let me get up until I ate it. And I was stubborn. I wouldn’t.”

“You? Stubborn? Noooo…” Stiles smirks, offering Derek a Twizzler. They are sitting in Stiles jeep, out in the preserve. Right outside the Hale house. It’s dusk, the crickets just coming out to play in the darkened air. It’s peaceful. And Stiles isn't going to complain if Derek feels like talking. This is something they do now. Talk. Stiles enjoys it. Scott doesn't get it. 

And his dad doesn't know. 

Derek shakes his head at the offer of the candy and continues. 

“So the doorbell rings, and it’s your mom. She brought cookies. Her cookies were amazing.”

“Peanut butter chip.” Stiles whispers. Derek nods. 

“Then my mom lets her in and your mom looks at me from the kitchen. And when my mom wasn’t looking your mom snuck in, ate half of my salad and put a cookie in my shirt pocket.” Derek smiles. “She was a kind woman.”

“Yes. Yes she was.” Stiles swallows, and turns to look at Derek. “Tell me something no one knows.”

“About me?” Derek chokes out. “No way.”

“Come on, dude. I’ll tell you something too.” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows. 

“Don’t call me dude, and no.” Derek argues. 

“Fine, I’ll go first.” Stiles clears his throat. “Okay, well there are a few things. I’m still afraid of the dark…”

“I know. You have a nightlight.” Derek interrupts. 

“Shut up. That’s a Star Wars night light. It’s cool.” 

“If you say so.”

Stiles frowns. “Anyway, so there’s that. Um...I have to flick my light switch on and off three times before I can leave the room. And I wet the bed until I was 9. Okay, your turn. Go.”

“Stiles, I’m not telling you anything.” Derek rolls the window down in the jeep, the cool night air seeping in. He closes his eyes, as if he can smell the darkness taking over. 

“Come on, dude. We’re bonding here. You expect me to trust you with my life, but I know practically nothing about you.”

“I just told you something.” Derek rationalizes. 

“No, you told me something about my MOM. Which I totally appreciate. But I wanna know something about YOU.” Stiles stuffs another Twizzler in his mouth. Derek opens his eyes, turning to him. Stiles can't read his expression, but it definitely softens. He’s quiet for a long time; it’s something Stiles has gotten used to. Derek is quiet a lot. It soothes Stiles’ nerves. 

But just as fast as Derek softens, he bristles again and hardens his muscles. He swallows, the only light now in the jeep is coming in through the windows from the moon and stars. But Stiles can still see Derek. It’s like Derek’s eyes can somehow glow in the dark. It’s how he knows Derek is there in his room at night, just watching over him when Derek thinks he’s sleeping. 

Yeah, whatever this is between them is fucked up. Really fucked up. But for the first time since his mother died he feels completely safe. It’s new. It’s dangerous. But somehow it calms him in ways he never thought possible.

“You scare me.” Derek whispers. 

Stiles eyes widen, nearly choking on his candy. “I...I scare you? How? Why?”

“Because,” Derek licks his lips. “I wasn’t expecting you.”  
  


********************************************

“Don’t you think you should get like a REAL place to live?”

Derek narrows his eyes at Stiles. “This IS my home.”

“No, right. I like, get that, but Derek you barely have a roof. It’s gotta get cold at night.” Stiles looks up through the ceiling at the clear blue sky above him. 

“I don't get cold.” Derek tells him. 

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Listen, I get it. It’s a part of your past. You wanna hold onto it. But Derek, this is no way to live.”

“I like it.” Derek argues.

“I’m not gonna win this one, am I?”

“Nope.”

Stiles sighs. “Fine. But we’re hanging out at my place from now on. I refuse to get frostbite.”  
  


******************************************

There are movie nights; Derek sprawled out next to Stiles on his bed as his father works the night shift. “To just make sure you’re okay.” He keeps telling Stiles.

Stiles doesn't believe him for a second. This is what it feels like to have someone. No, they haven't kissed and to be honest Derek barely even looks at him, but Stiles knows...this is it. This is what he’s been waiting for. 

Sometimes their feet touch; or more really Stiles’ socked feet against Derek’s boot. But it’s something. Something is happening. 

More and more Stiles thinks this whole need to watch out for him thing is just pure bullshit. He isn't sure exactly what Derek’s end game is; maybe he’s just biding his time until he’s 17 and can make his own legal decisions about sex and whom he spends his time with. Or maybe Derek is just lonely. Either way, Stiles doesn't care. 

Sometimes Derek picks Stiles up from school. He watches as girls and guys stare open mouthed as Stiles climbs into Derek’s sleek black Camaro; the wheels squealing as he pulls out of the Beacon Hills High School parking lot. He gets a text from Scott usually that night with a long paragraph about how he doesn't understand his friendship with him and why hasn't Stiles let Scott meet him for real yet, and his father will have a stroke when he finds out, etc, etc, blah blah. Stiles just texts back to his best friend that he’s being a worrywart and Derek is just a friend.

Scott never buys it. Neither does Stiles. 

“Did you eat all my Twizzlers?”

Derek just stares at him.

“Dude, rude.”

Derek almost smiles.  
  


*******************************************

Derek knows what Stiles wants. He can smell it, hear it, sense every vibration in Stiles’ body when Derek is around him. He’s a 16 year old boy. He’d fuck a tree if he could find a way. Maybe he already has. He can smell the lingering scent of arousal and cum some nights when he climbs into Stiles’ bedroom, while the Sheriff works an overnight, to check up on the teenager.  
Stiles is usually awake, doing homework, playing Call of Duty wearing that little headset thing with Scott, or watching reruns of the Simpsons, It’s always sunny, or Derek’s favorite, even though he would take it to his grave if asked, Friends.

It’s not that Derek doesn't care for the kid. He does. More than he should. Stiles is the kind of person who gets under your skin. He lays eggs of annoyance there that end up hatching into appreciation.And respect. And small smiles only Stiles can get out of him. 

Stiles always has Twizzlers which have always been Derek's favorite and Stiles explains are his favorite too. He would get them as a treat at night from his mother if he finished all his homework. It makes Derek smile to think of tiny Stiles, a bundle of energy, even then, even more so, hopping from one foot to another, waiting for his prize. 

It’s the way Stiles rambles. The way he explains things in such detail, it makes Derek think about things he never thought he would. Stiles’ logic about mundane things makes Derek’s head hurt at the time, but he finds himself thinking about them the next day on his run; do goldfish sleep? And what is with all the bananas when it comes to monkeys? Humans are supposed to have evolved from monkeys but Stiles hates bananas, so what gives?

It’s like Stiles’ brain runs on another level than most people. It may be why teachers find him disruptive but on a genius level. 

Derek knows that with the way Stiles’ mind works; the inner workings of round and round cycles of questions and curiosity, that this is reason why Stiles’ spark will ignite and grow until his power will be the most amazing anyone has ever seen. 

Derek isn't the kind of person or werewolf that grows to care. Not anymore. He’s guarded now. Untrusting, with good reasons. He has walls; walls that were built with deceptions, girls with blue eyes and blonde hair, and fire and screams. 

Walls that Stiles fucking Stilinski has torn down in the matter of two months. 

The bag of Twizzlers smacks Stiles in the face. He blinks at Derek and then smiles widely.

“You’re late, sour wolf.”  
  


*************************************

“Don’t you think it’s a little weird?”

Stiles blinks at his best friend across from him at the lunch table, a French fry hanging from his mouth.

“Huh?” He mumbles between bites.

“You and Derek Hale.” Scott whispers loudly, looking around as if ANYONE was paying attention. Yeah, that’ll be the day.

“Of course it’s weird, dude. But what in my life isn’t? It’s not a big deal. He’s actually not a bad guy.”

“So are you two like...you know?” Scott raises an eyebrow, opening his small milk container. Stiles bursts out laughing. 

“Dude, no. He’s like 22. And even if I was interested in him, he wouldn't look at twice at me.” Stiles frowns a bit, thinking about how absolutely gorgeous Derek is and how absolutely he isn't. 

“First of all, stop talking about yourself like that. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” Scott smacks him on head, before stealing a fry from his tray. 

“You have to say that. We’ve been best friends for 16 years.” Stiles reminds him. 

“Dude, if I was gay you know I’d be all over that.” Scott smirks. 

“I’m touched, really.”

“Anyway, okay so maybe you and Derek aren’t getting it on, but don't you think it’s really fucking weird that a 22 year old guy, creepy guy might I add, dangerous and he could kill you at any moment guy, suddenly has taken such an interest in you? I feel like this is going to turn into a 60 minutes episode where they are going to find your body, along with 10 other 16 year old boys buried under the ruins of the Hale house!” Scott is yelling now and Stiles’ eyes widen. 

“Dude, you need to calm down. Seriously, don't you think if Derek was going to kill me he would have done it already? Anyway, he’s not so bad. He has a bad rep, you know? I mean, his entire family was killed in that fire. That does shit to people.”

“Okay, fine, but what does it he want with YOU, Stiles? Your dad would have a fit if he knew you were hanging out with him.” Scott’s brow is creased with concern. 

Stiles shrugs. “Maybe he just wants a friend.”  
  


*********************************

_*****Ain't it funny rumors fly, and I know you heard about me. So hey, let's be friends; I'm dying to see how this one ends...*****_

“Scott doesn't understand.” Stiles watches as the wind picks up outside the jeep, whipping through Derek’s hair. He notices the muscles tighten through Derek’s leather jacket. “To be honest, I’m not sure I really understand either.”

“He doesn't have to understand. Neither do you.” Derek whispers.

“Yes I do. They are my feelings.” 

Derek turns. “And what feelings are those?”

Stiles shakes his head. “I...I don't know. But I know they are there.”

“This is just...an arrangement. I’m keeping you safe.”

“Bullshit. This is more than that. You have to realize that. And I think I’ve been pretty good about this whole thing but enough is enough. Don’t you think I deserve some answers?” Stiles grabs his arm and Derek stiffens. 

“Yes. But you’re not going to get them. Not yet.”

“When then?”

Derek glares at him. “When it’s time. But for now, it’s just about keeping an eye on you.”

Stiles swallows. “For how long?”

“I don’t know. As long as I can.” Derek shoves his hands in his pockets when the breeze gets colder as the sun sets over Beacon Hills. 

“And what if I find someone else who wants to take care of me?” It’s barely a whisper, because deep down Stiles can't even imagine anyone being there for him, around him, inside his mind like Derek has. 

Stiles doesn't know what this is. How Derek has made him just accept him being around all the time. How Derek has made him lie to his father, his friends, about their ‘relationship’ or whatever this even is. Derek has yet to really explain why Stiles is so important to protect, but then again, maybe Derek doesn't know. Stiles knows the firm hand of just doing something when your mother tells you to. And with his entire family being gone, maybe protecting Stiles is the one last thing he has of them. Talia Hale’s friendship with his mother may have been something epic; something movies and sisterhood of the traveling pants books could have been written about; he will never know. He doesn't dare ask his father; talking about his mother is still something Stiles knows is off limits; so instead, somehow he is just trusting Derek Hale. 

Derek Hale who looks older than his age; physically and emotionally. Derek Hale who flinches when Stiles gets too close. Derek Hale who watches over him in his sleep at night and it makes Stiles dream of his mother in a field with swirls of color dancing around her. Being close to Derek makes him feel closer to his mother; in ways even his father can't. 

“Then I’ll let you go.” Derek swallows, looking back over the rocks overlooking Beacon Hills. “But for now, it’s what I need to do.”

“What about what you want?” Stiles asks, his hand aching to reach out and slide his fingers down soft leather. 

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Stiles. All that matters is what needs to be done.”

“Right.” Stiles nods, kicking up dirt with his sneaker.  
  


***********************************

Derek is running. He’s been running for a while now. And even though from the outside, to someone like Stiles, it looks like he’s staying in one place just because he’s looking out for him. But he’s not. Inside, he’s still running. He’s running from his past. From his future. And mostly from Stiles. How Stiles makes him feel. How his skin catches fire whenever he’s near him. How the need to hold him, consume him, feel him beneath him, is so overwhelming that his muscles constantly ache from the NEED.

Stiles is young. Immature. Innocent. He smells of sugar and endorphins and lust. He smells like everything his wolf wants. And Derek wants him. He wants to possess him; for Stiles to fall at his feet and ache for him like Derek aches. 

But he knows that cannot and will never happen. Stiles is 16. He’s too young to understand his attraction for Derek; he can smell it on Stiles every time they are together. Stiles doesn't know the consequences. He doesn't know the truth. The truth Derek has kept from him because he knows it will just put him in more danger. He just needs to keep Stiles out of harm’s way until his spark ignites. Then Stiles will be able to hold his own against anything that comes his way. Unless it’s cancer. Because Claudia Stilinski’s spark protected her for all supernatural entities but when it comes to plain old everyday human diseases, there was nothing she could do. 

His mother told him that the spark could happen as young as ten all the way until Stiles is in his thirties. It's triggered by an act of love. Claudia’s was ignited the day she met John. When Stiles’ will happen, Derek doesn't know. But he just needs to wait, and prepare for when it does so he can teach Stiles and help him learn about what he is to become. 

“The boy cares about you.”

Deaton’s voice is soft and reassuring but it makes Derek cringe as the veterinarian wipes the remaining blood off his face where the huge gash on his cheek is now starting to heal. 

“I know.” Derek mumbles, grabbing the rag from the doctor. 

“And you care about him. More than you thought you would.” 

Derek growls low in chest, reaching for his torn t-shirt on the table next to him. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn't it now? You feel it don't you? The spark? It’s starting. And it’s awakening something in you.” Deaton folds his arms across his chest. 

“He’s 16 years old.” Derek says through gritted teeth. “It doesn’t matter what the wolf wants. He’s a human teenager. And part of me is still human and that part of me knows I can never have what my wolf wants.”

Deaton nods. “But how long can you hold out until your wolf wins? Until you realize this boy, this emissary, is your mate?” 

“You don’t know that.” Derek shoves the door to the vets’ office open, the bell jingling happily in his ears. 

“Your mother did.”  
  


*************************************

Stiles hears the footsteps on the roof before the window slides open. He sighs heavily, not even turning his head to side.

“You don’t need to come every night, you know. All I do is sleep. And my dad is here. And he has a gun. What do you have other than a scowl and those fucking eyebrows.”

“You’d be surprised.” Derek slides into his room and stands there, hands balled into fists at his side. “How was school?”

“Oh, you know. Got asked to the dance, made out with a cheerleader in the janitor’s closet and made the winning goal in the lacrosse game.” He eyes Derek finally. He’s frowning. “How do you think it was? The same as it is every day. I went to class. I learned shit. I ate lunch with Scott and Lydia Martin ignored me. Go me.”

“You’re better than Lydia Martin.” 

Stiles’ eyes widen slightly. “No one is better than Lydia Martin. She’s a goddess. With the brain of a genius. She’s perfect.”

“No. She’s not. And you have no idea how special you are.” Derek remains still and tense in the middle of the room. 

Stiles sits up, his hair sticking up at all ends, his old ratty t-shirt bunched around his abdomen. 

“You’re the only one who thinks so. Besides like my dad. And maybe Scott.”

“Then maybe we should be the only ones who matter.” 

Stiles swallows. “You really think...I’m…”

“Yes.” Derek cuts him off before he can finish the sentence. 

The air in the room is so thick Stiles can barely breathe. Sweat is starting to pool on the base of his neck and just looking at Derek in that leather jacket is making him hot in places he only sweats during lacrosse practice. He knows he is about to cross a line. A line that wasn't necessarily ever drawn but he knows is there. But Derek STILL has not given him any real answers as to why he befriended him months ago. 

He knows nothing about why his mother wanted the Hales to look after him, and his lying, his sneaking around with this guy who looks like he fell off the back of a hells angel bike, is starting to cause a ruckus in his life with his dad and Scott. He’s with Derek ALL THE TIME. His dad, you know with him being the sheriff and all, is going to catch on that he’s not playing video games with Scott like he always says he is. 

And when the shit hits the fan, Stiles wants SOMETHING to show for it other than secrets and lies. 

“So if I’m so special, why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

Stiles watches as Derek’s face drains of all color and he digs his fingertips into his thighs. He can practically hear Derek’s heart beat from where he is sitting on his bed. Or maybe that’s his own heartbeat in his ears. Stiles just doesn't know. But he waits. He waits for Derek to say something. To make a noise, or at least for the color to come back to his cheeks. 

But there is nothing but silence for so long, Stiles’ eyes start to get tired with exhaustion. He sighs heavily before flopping down, face first, into his pillow. He knew he shouldn't have said anything. He knew he just screwed everything up, and any sort of friendship he even had with Derek was now shot to shit. Of course Derek didn't want to kiss him. He’s a 16 year old boy. With a crush. At least that’s how he’s sure Derek looks at it. 

Derek has probably been with beautiful girls. Gorgeous girls with experience. Of course he’s not interested in some virginal teenage boy. This was just a favor, this whole ‘look after Stiles’ thing. He knows Derek could never look at him any other way. But he swore something was happening. Stiles could feel the shift, every time they hung out. He felt the longer looks. The heat...but again, Stiles is just a horny teenager. He could swear trees wanted to fuck him. 

Stiles buries his face into his pillow and uses every ounce of pride he has left, not to cry. And like a feather on a breeze, soft and perfect, just like Derek is, even though he tries so hard not to be, he hears it. 

“Why haven’t you kissed me?”  
  


_*****Cause we're young and we're reckless; We'll take this way too far...*****_

Derek avoids Stiles for a while. After he literally put his feelings; pent up feelings, feelings that he wasn't even sure he had been feeling the entire time, feelings he shouldn't have been feeling the entire time, feelings that were illegal in most states; out there for Stiles to hear, he ran. Like he always does.

Stiles calls him. Shows up at the burnt down house, just standing outside in front of it, for hours, even after the sun had long gone down, just staring. Sometimes he’d call for Derek. Sometimes Stiles said nothing at all. 

But he came almost every night for two weeks. And then he never came again. 

Stiles left one last voicemail on Derek’s phone at 1:39am on a Thursday. 2 weeks and 3 days after the kissing incident. 

_“Derek...I…_ ” Stiles voice was shaky, as if he had awoken from a nightmare. It makes Derek’s chest ache. _“I…”_ and then Stiles takes the most dramatic and exhausted sigh Derek has ever heard. _“I guess I’ll see you around. Sometime. Maybe. Probably not. Bye, Derek. And thanks. For trying. I tried too.”_

Derek smashes his phone against one of the burnt out walls in the old Hale house. And then he tears the rest of it to the ground. 

Within a month, Derek has taken up living in an old rundown loft, in a building his parents had owned. They had real estate everywhere; small portions of property all over California. This was the only one in Beacon Hills, besides their house that was now just a pile of burnt ash and dead grass. No one else lived in the building; it had been vacant for years now. But Derek had the electricity turned on. He bought a bed, and a couch and a table to sit and eat at. The fridge still worked, barely, but he put some beer in there and bottles of water and leftover Chinese food and pizza every now and then. 

Stiles would be proud of him. Finally slowly moving on. He was actually living in a place where Stiles would feel comfortable. And warm. 

They could watch their movies and eat Twizzlers and not have to worry about his dad walking in on them. That had happened a few times; Derek flying out the window and waiting on the roof until he was sure the Sheriff had gone off to bed. He would tumble back into Stiles’ room, to find the teen laughing hysterically. He would smack him upside the head and settle back onto the bed. 

But here, in his loft, they wouldn't have to worry about any of that. He could sit as close to Stiles as he wanted. 

But...he knows now he will never have that. 

He can’t. It had already gone too far. 

But the itch; just below his skin; his wolf howling for Stiles; kept him awake at night and standing outside the Stilinski house at 3am just to hear the erratic heartbeat he missed so much. 

It took 2 months before he saw Stiles again. 

It was by accident, really. He had decided he wanted a burger. He had been craving red meat since the full moon was near, and as Derek rounded the corner, there Stiles was, coming out of the burger joint, laughing, his eyes crinkled with happiness, a fountain soda in his hand, and a boy, an attractive boy, his age, giving Stiles a look that made Derek want to rip his throat out. With his teeth. 

He stops, unable to move out of fear, anger, guilt, but mostly sadness.

Stiles had found someone. Just like Derek had always wanted, and also feared. 

This kid he was with was far from as tall or muscular as Derek, but he knew, he could hold his own. And he could protect Stiles. Just like Stiles had warned Derek. Stiles did find someone. Better suited, proper aged, and someone not as damaged. 

Derek knows the promise he had made to his mother. But Stiles would be fine. He was stronger than either of them knew. Stiles had his friends, and his father, and now a boyfriend. He didn't need Derek. 

No one did. 

Derek had no one left to protect. 

That night, Derek packed up everything he owned in a duffle bag, sold the Camaro, bought a small SUV, and headed to New York. 

He wouldn't see Stiles again for 3 years.  
  


_*****New money, suit and tie; I can read you like a magazine...*****_

Stiles hates East Coast weather. Like now, how it’s pouring rain as he literally runs across campus to his first class of the day. First class of the semester. And he’s going to be soaking wet. Awesome.

He shakes off the excess rain from his red hoodie and takes a seat all the way in the back of the class; about 10 rows upward, hoping he doesn't get anyone else around him wet. He can see other people were smarter than him; rain coats and umbrellas scattered under seats and hung over desks. 

He’s from California. It doesn’t rain there. Fuck them with their judging eyes. He isn't used to this kind of weird weather. 

He slumps low in his chair as the rest of the class files in, filling in the seats around him. He shuffles through his messenger bag; awesome did he forget his pen too? This is just an awesome first day. He’s going back to Beacon Hills. He should have stayed there with Scott at the community college and THEN gone to a 4 year school. Maybe he was out of his element. Maybe he wasn’t ready for all this. Everyone else looks so PREPARED. And Stiles is a hot mess. 

But Stiles knows he did the right thing. Leaving. He had to get as far away from Beacon Hills as possible. After everything that had happened...all he knows now. All that had been kept from him. The truth came crashing down on him like an avalanche causing tornados and hurricanes and earthquakes in his path.

New York was the furthest he could get by not having to actually leave the country. 

Stiles still hasn't fully recovered from everything. How everything went down. The people who were hurt. The lies he still had to tell and the truths he’s still searching for. 

He finally finds a pen at the bottom of the bag, when he hears it. All the air gets sucked from the room in that moment. All oxygen that the atmosphere could possibly produce was just gone. And he was being sucked through a vortex at a thousand miles per hour. 

_“Good Morning. This is Supernatural and Mythical creatures past and present. Whatever you think you know, you don’t. Whatever you think you have ever seen isn’t even close to what you’re about to learn is real. If you are a skeptic and you’re taking this class just for credits or because maybe the class looked cool in the brochure for classes this semester, get out of my class and stop wasting my time. You can take Karate or Music Appreciation for credits if that’s the only reason you’re in college.”_

No one moves from their seat. They are mesmerized. Just like Stiles was. And is. Even now.

“Good. I’m Professor Hale. But you can call me Derek.”  
[](http://photobucket.com/)  
  


***************************************

_“Stiles! Are you even listening to me?”_

_Stiles blinks at his best friend across the lunch table from him. “What?”_

_“Jesus, Stiles. Are you okay? I mean you’ve been even more spacey than usual.” Scott gives him a concerned look as he chews on one of his French fries._

_Stiles nods. “Yeah, dude. Just tired.”_

_Scott swallows. “Is this about Derek?”_

_Stiles eyes widen. “What? No, of course not. Why would this be about Derek?”_

_“Stiles, I know he left Beacon Hills.”_

_Stiles looks down at his lunch tray and swirls his pasta around on his fork. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter, does it? I was stupid to think he cared.”_

_Scott sighs heavily. “I told you. You should honestly listen to me.”_

_“Yeah. Next time I will.”_   
  


**********************************

He barrels in like some kind of storm you only see in Youtube videos because no one can ever get too close to one and live to tell about it. His face is red, he’s panting and Derek can hear AND feel his heartbeat from where he is seated at his desk.

His office door slams with such a force, New York may feel an earthquake the magnitude of the likes they feel in Peru. He’s sweating and Derek can swear the room is vibrating. 

“You...you son a fucking bitch. You asshole. You cowardly piece of shit. You pompous scared fuck. You...you..” He can barely get the words out he is shaking so hard. Derek still swears the floor is shaking.

“Stiles…” Derek is just as surprised as Stiles. His own heart is racing; his chest heavy and aching with the need to touch. Smell. Comfort. Love. 

The same feeling he had back in Beacon Hills all those years ago he was around him. The feeling that has stayed with him. The feeling he had been escaping from but could never quite outrun. 

And like karma’s epic bitch of destiny, here Derek is, faced again, with the boy who made him FEEL. Who made him doubt everything he ever knew. The boy he left behind so he didn't drag him down into his own sadness. 

Stiles is taller now. More filled out. His hair that was once a short buzz cut on his perfectly round head, is now long, shaggy almost, spiked at the tips. But he has the same damn red hoodie that fits him now in all the right places. It makes Derek yearn. 

It awakens his wolf. 

“No. Don't say a fucking word. I...I...god I could rip you apart with my bare hands, you know that?” Stiles spews. 

“I know. I know you’re angry…” Derek stands but when Stiles raises his hand to him he stills. It’s like a magnet, keeping him where he is. It’s making Derek dizzy.

“No, I’m serious, Derek, I could literally rip you apart.” Stiles narrows his eyes. 

“Let me explain, okay? I know you’re upset. The way I left, not saying goodbye. But I had good reasons. You were better off. What I was doing...what we would have done, would have been wrong.” Derek is trying so hard to get the right words out, but they weren't helping. 

Stiles is still shaking, his fists balled at his hips. Derek is actually almost afraid. 

“Wrong? Wrong!? Do you have any idea what it was like for me after you were gone? What happened? What I did...the lies...the truths I found out!?” Stiles is screaming. He knows passing students must hear him. But Derek literally cannot move from where he is. 

“And what truth is that, Stiles?” Derek inches closer from around his desk. He swears he sees Stiles’ eyes flash an almost silver color. But the late morning light is coming in from his window and the way the sun is hitting Stiles face...it takes Derek’s breath away. He is still so beautiful. 

And then Stiles laughs. A bold rumble and Derek definitely feels it this time. The floor is shaking from underneath him. 

“This truth.” Stiles raises his hand, a bright and long stream of light and heat radiating from his palm. It knocks Derek backwards against the wall, his skin burning. His eyes slide shut and the last thing he sees is the silver of Stiles’ eyes before he blacks out.  
  
[](http://photobucket.com/)  


**********************************

_Derek heaves himself over the last cliff and if he wasn’t already breathless from the hike up, the view alone would take it away._

_The sky, meeting its demise on the horizon, is an array of purples, oranges and reds, making the ruined city below him shimmer in a hue he isn’t sure any color wheel or painting would be able to replicate. This really is one of those ‘you had to be there; I can’t explain the beauty to you’ stories._

_And in this moment, more than he had in the past 3 years, he misses Stiles._

_If anyone could or would understand the beauty of this place it would be him. Stiles was good at that. Finding the little things that make things gorgeous._

_Like him. Stiles used to look at him like no one ever had. Expect maybe his mother. Stiles accepted him. He actually liked being around Derek. And for the first time in years, Derek could stomach being around another human being._

_But that was behind Derek now. He had moved on. He had left Stiles to make his own decisions. He had left so Stiles could make his own way in the world. And so Derek could make his._

_He had busied himself with school and getting his degree and now with the money he had been hoarding, refusing to touch since the fire, he decided to travel the world, trying to find any truths to the myths, lore and legends, of were-kind. And his searching had brought him here to an ancient buried civilization in Spain._

_The story had been that a sorcerer had leveled the entire town where werewolves had come to inhabit. Derek could still feel the magic in the air. It vibrated from beneath the rubble. He could smell his own buried deep beneath the earth. It made his wolf howl for those who were lost, and for Stiles. The magic that still travels in the breeze strikes a strong resemblance to what he used to feel, ever so often, off of Stiles._

_Derek sits on the jaded rocks, swinging his long legs over the cliff and takes a sip from his water bottle. It’ll be completely dark soon, and the idea of spending the entire night overlooking this once beautiful town filled with his kind, seems like the best thing for his broken yearning heart._   
  


**********************************

Derek’s eyes flutter open, and pain immediately hits him. He’s never felt pain like this before. It isn't just physical; his muscles aching from every part of his body. It’s mental too. His brain feels jumbled and confused and his head throbbing with tingles and what could only be described as sparks of electricity.

He moans, turning slightly onto his side only to realize he is on his couch in his office and he falls, hard, onto the wooden floor. He growls, low in his chest and pushes up on the palms of his hands when he feels a soft touch on his lower back. 

“Hey,” the familiar voice tells him. “Take it easy. It’s gonna sting for a while.”

Derek looks up to find Stiles kneeling next to him. At least it looks like Stiles. It sounds like Stiles. Fuck, it even smells like Stiles, with a hint smell of sulfur, but this isn't Stiles. Not the Stiles he remembers. 

Derek pushes him away with his shoulder, sitting up on his heels, air filling back into his lungs. He can't even look at Stiles. He has so many questions. Questions he already knows the answers to, but it’s getting to the answers; the story between the question and the answer; that’s going to be the thing that does him in. 

“Don’t have anything to say?” Stiles asks, standing. 

“Nope.” 

Derek finally stands up, but falls down onto the couch behind him, his muscles seizing in pain. He sits back, his shift beginning. 

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. It happens. Sometimes. When I’m angry. The spark, just takes over.” Stiles sits down ever so gently next to him, eyeing him with such a look, Derek can barely stomach it. Guilt. Sadness. And a hint of yearning. It makes Derek sick. 

“I’m fully aware of your _‘spark’_ , Stiles.” Derek groans out. 

“Yeah, you are, aren’t you?” Derek can practically FEEL the spark begin to ignite again. 

“Yes, I am. So were your mother and my mother. I tried to protect you, to keep you from-”

“-Going dark side? Fear not, Derek. I’m not evil. I’m just magic. Very magic. Very powerful. But I’ve got it under control. Totally under control.” 

“Yeah.” Derek cracks his shoulder back into place. “You seem to have it under control.”

“Fuck you, Derek Hale. You abandoned me. You left me and Beacon Hills behind in a puff of dust kicked up from your heals on the way out of town. I was mad for a very long time-okay maybe I’m still a little mad-but I’ve moved past it.”

“Uh huh.” Derek eyes him. “So what happened after I left? How did you....” 

“Find out I had magic?” Stiles wiggles his fingers at him and Derek cringes. “Sorry. Um, well let’s see. You left. I locked myself in my room for about 2 months, I almost failed school. My dad had a heart attack-”

“What? Stiles is he-”

“Oh he’s totally fine now. Still Sheriff, still badass. Just a minor setback. But it was a wakeup call you know? Me sitting in my room pining over you wasn’t very...constructive. So I got my shit together, took care of my dad, got my grades back up and kicked ass in lacrosse.” Stiles smiles.

“Okay...but...the magic.” Derek reminds him. 

“Oh right. Then the werewolves came.”  
  


*************************************

_“SCOTT!!!!!!!” Stiles screams as Kali lifts him up off the ground; her claws digging into his throat. The earth begins to tremble underneath his feet. Kali looks a bit off balance but her red eyes never leave Scott’s face and her grip on his neck never loosens._

_“LET ME HIM GO. NOW.” Stiles warns, the trees around them beginning to break at their bases. The wind is picking up now, swirling the leaves around their feet. He can hear Lydia screaming in the distance, another captive of the Alpha pack. ‘What are you waiting for, Stiles. END THIS.’_

_“Or what? There is not a god damn you can do about this. Yes, we were looking for Derek Hale and his family and it’s such a shame he’s gone. But we WILL find him, but before we go, why not have a little fun. This one right here…” Kali shakes Scott by his neck, his fingers digging into her hand trying to free himself from his grasp. He’s like a ragdoll. “...would make a good werewolf, don’t you think? We can use him for leverage when we find Derek. Or maybe…” She turns to eye Stiles. “We could use you. You do smell like him. He liked you, didn’t he?” She keeps her hand around Scott’s neck as she drags him across the forest floor and stalks toward Stiles. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”_

_“I SAID LET HIM GO!” Stiles screams, a bolt of lightning erupting from the sky and cracking a tree RIGHT next to Kali right in half, sparks flying everywhere. She ducks, shielding her face with her free hand, never letting go of his best friend._

_“Ooooo. You’re an emissary, aren’t you little boy? Oh now this is just going to be the BEST night ever!” She snaps at him, her teeth shining sharp like razors in the moonlight. Stiles takes a deep breath, possibly his last breath he will ever take, and out reaches his arms and hands toward her and the rest of the Alpha pack behind her, one of which has Lydia in his grasps._

_“You’ll never find, Derek. And you WILL let my friends go. This ends. NOW.”_

_The burst of light is so bright and the force of impact so strong, it practically breaks Stiles back as he is flung against the large oak behind him._   
  


_*****Screaming, crying, perfect storms, I could make all the tables turn. Rose garden filled with thorns...*****_

“Werewolves? What werewolves? What the fuck are you talking about?” Derek’s voice rises as he demands answers. Stiles wrinkles his nose.

“You know. Werewolves. Come on, don't tell me you don't know about werewolves.” Stiles eyes him suspiciously. 

Derek falters. Stiles doesn't know. Stiles doesn't know he himself is one. Or is Stiles just messing with him? Sarcasm is Stiles’ second language. 

“I...yes I know about werewolves, Stiles.” Derek says slowly. “Tell me what happened.”

Stiles sighs and fidgets with the string on his sweatshirt. “It started with animal attacks. We thought it was bears or mountain lions, you know? There’re so much woods around Beacon Hills. But then people started disappearing. And then people started turning into werewolves. Remember Jackson? Well he didn't turn into no fucking werewolf, let me tell you. He turned into this fucking lizard thing that produced paralyzing venom. Freaking terrifying.”

“Did you get hurt at all?” Derek searches Stiles face and whatever skin that isn't covered by clothing for any signs of scars. 

Stiles shakes his head. “Nah. That’s when I realized I could defend myself. One day it just...happened. I was defending Lydia when Jackson went crazy reptile boy and the energy, magic, whatever the fuck it’s called, just came out of me.”

“It’s called a spark.” 

Stiles looks up, eyes the most beautiful honey color. It takes Derek’s breath away. “Yeah, I know. Deaton told me.”

Derek nods, yearning to reach out to hold Stiles’ hand. He can feel the pain that is lying deep inside him. Derek knows that pain all too well. “What were...they looking for?”

“You.” Stiles answers matter of factly. “The Hale pack.”

Oh. Stiles does know.

“But I told them you were long gone. That your family was long gone. It was an Alpha pack. They wanted your mother, or next in line.”

“It would be Peter.” Derek whispers. 

“Oh, they got him. But they wanted you.” Stiles searches Derek’s eyes. “You okay?”

“Why are you asking me that? I’m the one that left you to deal with all this. I should never have done that. But it was too much. And I was getting too attached to you.” Derek can't bear to look in his eyes anymore. He closes them, burying the hurt like he has for years. 

“Yes, you leaving was sucky, and immature and selfish. But if you hadn’t, I never would have realized what I was. What I was capable of.”

“I could have helped you.” Derek mumbles. He’s ashamed. 

“Maybe. Maybe you would have gotten hurt. And that would have literally killed me. I’m glad you are safe. I’m glad for once I was able to protect myself. I’m happy you got away from all that. That you started over.” Derek feels Stiles’ delicate fingers ghost over his hand. 

“And what about you?” Derek asks. 

“Me? I took out an Alpha pack with my awesome Hogwarts magical powers.” Stiles smirks. “But I missed you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Stiles squeezes Derek’s hand. 

“Tell you what?”

“About me. About you. About us.”

Derek’s eyes fly open. “Us?”

Stiles cocks his head to side, a small spreading over his lips. “That I’m your mate.”  
  


********************************

_Deaton wipes the remaining blood from Stiles’ forehead and looks at him, smiling just a bit._

_“What?” Stiles asks, taking the bloodied rag from his hand and glancing at Scott and Lydia who are sitting on the large metal table just behind Deaton. They are ok. A little bruised, but okay._

_“Your spark. It’s strong.” Deaton tells him._

_“Oh, is that’s what it’s called? I just thought I was like powder or something.” When Deaton’s eyes glaze over Stiles just shakes his head. “Never mind.” He pauses. “So magic huh? Werewolves, all the supernatural shit I’ve read in mythological books, all true huh?”_

_Deaton nods. “Mostly, yes.”_

_“Unicorns?”_

_“Can’t confirm or deny.”_

_“Damn.” Stiles stretches, making sure he can in fact, still move his back._

_“You’ll be sore for a while. Not just from the force of impact on the tree, but from all the energy from the spark.” Deaton explains. “Take it easy for a few days. Try not to use any magic.”_

_“Oh, don’t worry Doc, that won’t be happening for a long time, if ever.”Stiles hops down from the examination table. “So, um….do you know where Derek is?”_

_Deaton’s lips form a thin line. “No, Stiles. I’m sorry. I don’t.”_

_Stiles shrugs. “It’s cool. I mean he’s safe now, right? Alpha pack eliminated. Just thought it might be good to like...know.”_

_Deaton begins to put his supplies back away. “You miss him?”_

_Stiles shrugs again. “Sure. Maybe. Sometimes. But it doesn’t matter. I’m sure he had his reasons for leaving.”_

_“He did. Fear.” Deaton answers a question Stiles wasn’t even really asking._

_Stiles snorts. “Right, fear of what?”_

_Deaton turns. “You.”_   
  


*****************************************

“You’re not!” Derek spits out with venom in his voice. “You-you’re human. And I’m…”

“I know what you are, Derek. Maybe I’ve always known. Maybe it’s the reason why when you took such an interest in me, I never even blinked an eye. That this beautiful older guy wanted to protect me? Pfft. I knew someone was up. But you...you were Derek. You looked at me. Really looked at me. And you knew my mother. Those two things right there meant more to me than anything else. I wish you could have trusted me with that.” 

“I was trying to protect you.” Derek can feel emotions running through him that he thought were long past gone. But he knows now Stiles was never gone. Stiles was like an infection, just below the surface of his skin, always there but docile, just waiting for the moment to crawl up from beneath his pores to make itself known again. 

To awaken with a spark. 

“You can't protect me. You never could. But you could have been by my side. You still can.” Stiles tells him, and Derek finally realizes how close they really are. It’s terrifying him. But making him feel so calm at the same time.

“By your side? I think I’m the only werewolf in New York City.” Derek smirks. 

“First of all, I highly doubt that. And second of all there's always danger around every corner. I could protect you.” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows. Derek full on laughs this time. 

“I’m not helpless you know.”

“No. I guess you’re not.” Stiles eyes are soft. “Maybe I’m just trying to find a reason for you to spend time with me.” 

“Stiles…” Derek begins, stiffening. “You’re in my class. I’m your teacher, I can't…”

Stiles gets the dirtiest, most seductive look on his face Derek has ever seen. It makes his dick stir in his jeans. “You’re honestly going to let me walk out that door? We could do that. I could just be a student in your class and you could be my teacher. It could be like we never knew each other.”

“I…” Derek can literally not get the words to spill from his lips. It’s like he has an angel and a devil on each shoulder. He values his job; he’s a good teacher. But with Stiles sitting right in front of him with his pale skin and moles and beautiful full lips; would he be crazy to just walk away again?

“Think about it. I won the lottery and got myself a single over at Dumont. If you wanna find me.” Stiles stands, swinging his messenger bag over his shoulder. “I know this must be a lot to process. To be honest I think I need some time to calm my nerves and focus myself.”

“You seem pretty calm to me.” Derek mumbles looking up. Stiles smiles down at him.

“It’s just good medication.” Stiles turns with one last small smile, toward the door. That’s when the panic hits Derek. Stiles is leaving. Stiles is walking away. He is losing him again. His chest begins to tighten. His breath is gushed out from his lungs. He’s shaking.

The wolf breaks through the surface and the want and need takes over through the panic and grief. His skin begins to prickle and burn. 

The growl comes from low in his stomach and his clawed hand is slamming against his closed door, keeping Stiles from exiting. Stiles turns, his lips turned upward, but his eyes are blazing with surprise and excitement. 

“Don't.” Derek warns. 

“Don't what?” Stiles whispers, his face so close to Derek’s, he can feel his breath on his lips. Stiles eyes Derek’s elongated teeth draped over his lips. Derek watches at Stiles licks his lips, and can smell the lust bubbling up and over. 

“Don’t leave.”

“I won't if you won’t.” Stiles promises, barely getting the words out before he smashes his mouth onto Derek’s, cutting his lower lip on his fangs in the process.  
[](http://photobucket.com/)

*********************************

_“Burning the midnight oil, I see.”_

_Derek looks up from his stack up papers on his desk and squints his eyes from behind his glasses to adjust to the light. He gives the woman standing in the doorway of his office a small smile and nod._

_“Gotta get these term papers graded. It never ends, you know?_

_“Don’t I know it. You’re lucky you only have one class. I have two and math exams? Horrible.” Caroline steps cautiously into his office, glancing around. “You do have a heavier subject matter than I do though.” She smiles at Derek and he knows what she wants. It’s what she’s wanted since he came to work at the university._

_But he’s not ready. He may never be._

_“That I do.” He turns back to Matt Brink’s term paper on the origin of shapeshifters. It’s been his favorite paper so far._

_“So, do you wanna go grab a sandwich or a cup of coffee from the cafeteria before it closes or…” Caroline trails off, motioning toward the door._

_Derek visibly cringes; hoping that Caroline takes it as a sign of sadness and not pain. “I really can’t, Caroline. I wish I could but these term papers are long and tedious and I have to get them done by tomorrow. But thank you for the invite. Maybe another time.” Derek lies. There won’t be another time._

_“Oh, ok. I understand. Duty calls. Definitely another time.” She’s trying to hide her sadness in her smile, but Derek can smell her disappointment. She exits and he sighs heavily, dropping his glasses onto the huge pile of papers on his desk. He rubs his hands over his face._

_Caroline is pretty. And smart. And caring. And sweet. So sweet. And she likes Derek. She likes listening to him talk, and she really does listen. She seems interesting. But there was a problem. The same problem there was in Greece with the beautiful woman on the beach that day. And the tour guide in Paris who practically offered him no strings attached crazy role in the sack sex. And the model in Germany who grabbed his crotch in line at the coffee bar whose eyes, were as blue as the ocean. And then Caroline. Sweet sweet Caroline (no pun intended but Derek is sure that song was probably written about her) who would do everything in her power to make Derek happy. But it doesn’t erase the problem. The overwhelming, crushing problem he has had since he left California 4 years ago._

_None of them have pale skin with tiny moles scattered across it. None of them have honey brown eyes._

_None of them ignite the spark inside him._

_None of them are Stiles._   
  


_*****But you'll come back each time you leave, Cause darling I'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream...*****_

“So I am, right?”

Derek hears Stiles’ voice break through the darkness. He opens his eyes, the buzz of pleasure still coursing through his body. The moon, making small shadows on the ceiling of his office, is the only light.

“Are you what?” Derek feels Stiles’ lips on his shoulder, trailing soft kisses down his skin. 

“Your mate.”

Derek sighs heavily. “I don’t know.”

“You don't feel it? You didn't feel that when we-” Stiles trails off.

Truth is Derek did feel it. He felt the electricity surge through him when his lips finally, after so many years, found Stiles’. He felt the need as he picked Stiles up, cradling his perfect ass underneath his clawed hands as Stiles wrapped his legs around his waist. He felt it when skin finally hit skin and need hit want. 

And he felt love. Love as Derek’s thick curved cock slid inside Stiles’ tight ass for the first time. Love as Stiles thrashed and moaned and cried out from pain and pleasure. Love as he emptied inside him and felt his lover’s orgasm onto their stomachs. Love as he licked Stiles’ tears off his cheeks as they both came down. Love as Stiles purrs next to him, leaving lazy kisses and caresses down his naked body. 

“Yes, Stiles. I felt it. Happy now?”

“There’s my sour wolf.” Stiles kisses his neck and Derek has to keep himself from falling into total oblivion. He could lose his job for this. Stiles is only 19. And how could this work between them? Was there a them now? Maybe this was a onetime thing. A moment of weakness. Pent up sexual tension finally exploding.

“Stop thinking so hard.” 

Derek turns his head to find Stiles’ face in the darkness. The floor is uncomfortable, but Stiles doesn't seem to mind. “We have to talk about this.”

“God, you sure have changed. 4 years ago I couldn't pay you enough to talk, now you won’t shut up.” Stiles grumbles, burying his face in Derek’s armpit.

“I get paid to talk now.” Derek reminds him, a hand coming up to run his fingers through Stiles’ hair. He can’t help it. 

“Mmmm.” Stiles looks up, eyes glassy with sleepiness and sex. “I’m not trying to ruin your life. I just...can't lose you again. I need you. As you can see I honestly don't have much control over my power.”

“I noticed.”

“Yeah. So I could use your help. And you know I’m a pretty cool guy once you get to know me. Or this me. The older me. More mature me.” Stiles tries to convince him.

“How did you get rid of the Alphas?” Derek whispers. Stiles pales.

“I killed them. They were attacking Scott. I lost it. Fire ball of energy literally just exploded them into a million pieces.”

“And Peter?”

Stiles shakes his head. “I didn’t mean to hurt him. I swear.”

“I know.” Derek takes Stiles’ cheek in his palm. “I know.”

“Does that mean you’re…?”

Derek shakes his head. “No. Maybe his Alpha spark went into you when you killed him. Gave you more power. Who knows. But no, I’m not an alpha.”

Stiles smiles. “Doesn’t matter. I bet you’re still a big bad wolf.”

Derek sighs. “This isn’t funny, Stiles. No one here knows.” He turns his head to look at him. “And no one back in Beacon Hills does either, DO they?”

“Everything is okay. Scott is at community college, Lydia went off to Harvard. Jackson got shipped off to London after he converted from that god awful serpent thing into a real werewolf. My dad is still Sheriff. And I’m...-here. Studying Forensics and minoring in Supernatural studies.” Stiles shrugs. “Even if they did figure everything out, it wouldn’t matter. Scott, Lydia and I never talk about that night.”

“And you had no idea I was here?” Derek asks. 

“No.” Stiles shakes his head. “Not a clue. It was just one of the only colleges that had supernatural studies. And the farthest away from Beacon Hills.”

“Don’t you think it’s strange that you ended up here? Where I am? In my class?”

“How did you end up here? Teaching?” Stiles balances himself up on his elbow to reach eye level with Derek. 

“Came back to New York. Got my degree in teaching and then studied for 6 months around the world following myths and legends. Came back and talked to the Dean, who of course knew my parents, and they made this class just for me. I was honored. This is my second semester doing it. I love it. I’m happy here. Have a small apartment in Chelsea. Couldn't really ask for much else.” Derek eyes Stiles for his reaction.

“But you have no friends.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Then maybe that’s why I ended up here. To be with you.” 

Derek swallows. “Doesn't that scare you?”

Stiles leans in, rubbing his nose against Derek’s. “I’ve never felt scared around you, Derek.”  
  


***************************************

_“But why New York?” Scott whines, sitting on Stiles’ suitcase while he watches Stiles zip it up._

_“Because it’s the only school in this country that has a class on mythological creatures. And if I take that, and maybe find out more about what we are REALLY up against, and maybe even find out more about my magic, then maybe I can be the kind of detective that could make a real difference.” Stiles answers his best friend, shoving his red hoodie into his duffle bag._

_“But Deaton can help you with the magic stuff! He has been!” Scott argues._

_“Scott. My main man. My bro of all bros. My bestest friend since the sandbox. We are not going to lose touch. I promise. I will be here every holiday and back for summers. You are not getting rid of me that easily” Stiles grabs Scott’s head hard between his hands and plants a wet kiss on his forehead. Scott groans, pulling away violently but then laughs as Stiles pretends to punch him in the stomach._

_“Come on man, help me get this shit in my car.” Stiles grabs his duffle and his pillow but stills when he notices Scott not moving. “What now?”_

_“This isn’t about Derek is it? You didn’t find out he was in New York or something and you’re going there for him, right?” Scott looks genuinely worried._

_Stiles sighs heavily and turns toward the door. “Stop being ridiculous. I was over Derek years ago.”_   
  


********************************

“So um, this is it.”

Stiles steps into the apartment, in front of Derek, looking around with wide eyes. Derek eyes him, hand still on the door jamb, as if he is standing in the way of the exit, still afraid, somewhere deep down, that Stiles may still bolt at any second.

“Wow, Der. This is really nice.” Stiles wanders over to a large painting, hanging on a useless wall in what Derek considers the dining room. Even though there is no table and chairs. 

“I um, actually did that myself.” Derek closes the door gently. He’s afraid to see Stiles’ reaction to that. 

Stiles turns to look at him. “Really? Derek, it’s…” Stiles trails off, his eyes studying the canvas. Derek stands behind him, watching the muscles in his back as he breathes in and out. It’s calming to him. “It’s...me.”  
[](http://photobucket.com/)  
Derek stills. “How...how did you know that?”

Stiles points. “All that black and brown? It’s the preserve. And that one spot of red in the distance. It’s my red hoodie. Isn’t it?”

Derek swallows. “Y-yes.”

Stiles turns, facing Derek. “It’s beautiful.”

Derek nods. 

“You’re beautiful.”

Derek’s eyes slide shut. “Don’t.”

“When are you going to see what I see? What I always saw?” Stiles whispers.

“There’s nothing here for you, Stiles. You’re better off without me. That’s why I left. You had a boyfriend-”

“Wait a second. I had a WHAT?” Stiles yells.

Derek’s eyes open. “A boyfriend. I saw you coming out of the hamburger place on Madison. He was...good looking. You seemed happy.”

“DANNY? Dude, he was on the lacrosse team. We all went there after a game. I was with the rest of the team too, or did you not stay long enough to see that? You just bolted didn’t you? Straight out of Beacon Hills.”

Derek nods.

“You are a fucking idiot.” Stiles steps forward into his personal space. “But you’re my idiot.” He presses his full lips gently against Derek’s chapped ones. Derek doesn't flinch. “What?”

“I don’t understand you. How can you just be so okay with this?”

“Okay with what?” Stiles asks.

“This! Everything, Stiles. You being magic, me, being a werewolf. Leaving you. Being your fucking teacher! None of this makes any fucking sense!” Derek screams.

Stiles shakes his head, clearly not affected by Derek’s sudden outburst. “Of course it doesn't make sense. I stopped making sense of my life a long time ago, Derek. You should have too. But I’m here. You’re here. And I want you.”

“No, you’re young. You don't know if you will want me for the rest of your life. You keep talking about mates, Stiles. Do you even know what that means? What it entails? Forever. No one else. No one night stands. No drunken college sex. Me and you. Just us. Together. Forever. That’s what you want? You want to take a chance that you may not like who I am?” Derek can feel the walls closing in on him. The room is spinning. But all he can hear is Stiles’ heartbeat. 

“Do I seem like the one night stand drunken college sex kind of guy to you, Derek? Have I ever? No you’re right. I may not like you in the morning when you’re grumpy before you’ve had your coffee. And you may not like when I’m grouchy from studying or working all day. You might be too neat and I know I’m too messy. But guess what? That’s gonna be problems with ANYONE. Any couple.” Stiles reaches for Derek but he backs up shaking his head. 

“Couple. Yeah, the spark and the werewolf. We wouldn't be the normal ‘why didn’t you make the bed’ couple, Stiles. There’s going to be pain and guilt harder than ‘you didn’t take the garbage out.’” Derek’s hands make fists at his side. “It doesn’t matter what we feel. It just won’t work. It’s why I left all those years ago. Whether you were dating that guy or not, you deserved to be with someone who can give you what you need. I can’t. One day you’ll grow to hate me and I couldn't live with that.”

“And I have no say in this whatsoever. I have no say in how I feel? What if you end up hating me, huh? What if I become too powerful? What if I end up hurting you? Emotionally or physically, huh? How could I live with THAT? But I’m willing to take my chances. I fucking love you, Derek. I always have. And I didn't end up here by some coincidence. This is fate, or kismet, or serendipity or whatever the hell else the universe wants to call it. But I’m supposed to be with you. My mother saw it, your mother saw it. Why can’t you?”

“Four years, Stiles. Four years away from me and you think I’m the person you’re supposed to be with for the rest of your life?” Derek’s voice cracks at the last word. 

“Four years away from me and you still want me, Derek.”

“It’s different.” Derek walks towards his small kitchen, his throat dry and scratchy. He’s tired of talking. He’s just so tired of talking. 

“Oh, right. Cause you’re the big bad werewolf.”

“That’s right!” Derek growls. 

“So fucking act like it! Fight. Fight for me! You obviously spent this entire time away from me still thinking about me!” Stiles motions toward the painting. “So do something about it. I’m here, Derek. What are you going to fucking do about it, huh?”

Derek white knuckles the edge of the counter in front of him. He can barely breathe. He can feel Stiles all around him. He always could. Stiles is right. What is he going to do? Let Stiles just walk out of his life again because of his fear? He knows Stiles will never leave him. So Derek will have to be the one to walk away. Again. But he knows he can't. Not again. 

“Huh!? Derek!? I’m fucking talking to you.” Derek feels Stiles’ hand on his forearm and then it’s like a tornado, earthquake and hurricane all at once. 

Stiles is up against the wall, the beams holding up the apartment and the floorboards vibrating with the force of a werewolf and a magical boy. Derek ruts against Stiles like a dog in heat, his tongue exploring his mouth in the most pornographic of ways. Stiles just moans and grabs and bites and sucks every inch of Derek’s mouth and back; clawing at skin through fabric. 

Derek keeps Stiles plastered against the wall with just the weight of his chest and mouth, his hands fishing down between their bodies to undo buttons and unzip zippers. Stiles’ legs wrap around Derek’s waist, grinding and practically fucking himself against Derek. It’s too much. 

Derek can barely keep his balance so with a frustrated huff he slides Stiles down the wall and raises an eyebrow at him as he continues down until he is kneeling in front of Derek’s unzipped slacks. He pushes them slowly down Derek’s ass, his thick cock springing out in front of Stiles’ face. He hovers his mouth above his cock licking the tip, tasting everything Derek is. Stiles draws circles around it, under the fold and back over Derek’s slit. He moans softly and reaches down to touch Stiles’ head. He doesn't push it down or grab at his hair. He just…caresses his head. Pets him. And Stiles’ purrs like a kitten.

Stiles’ lips slide down over his dick, and Derek can feel his vein pulse against Stiles’ tongue. He reaches under Derek and bounces his balls in his hand. Derek gasps and stills his hand on Stiles’ head. Then Derek’s dick is all the way in Stiles’ mouth, causing moans and gorgeous sounds he wasn’t even sure he could make to pour out of Derek. When Stiles mimics the movement again, taking him all the way into his throat, Derek bucks forward and grips Stiles’ hair between his fingers. 

Stiles start to suck fast and hard, spit running down his chin and onto Derek’s balls. Stiles’ hand reaches up to Derek’s stomach to still him as he begins to shake. He’s close and Stiles must know it. He takes him all the way to the back of his throat and Derek literally howls as he floods Stiles’ mouth and he swallows every drop like it’s water in a desert. Stiles continues to clean Derek’s cock until it grows limp against his tongue.

Stiles’ honey brown eyes look up at him and Derek stares down, chest heaving. He stands, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, pupils blown. Derek dives right back in, devouring his mouth, tasting himself on his tongue.  
  


_*****So it's gonna be forever, Or it's gonna go down in flames. You can tell me when it's over, if the high was worth the pain. Got a long list of ex-lovers-They'll tell you I'm insane…*****_

Stiles pushes his ass back aggressively, searching for Derek’s mouth again. He had come up for air; Derek licking his entrance for at least the last 30 minutes. He eyes his spit running down Stiles’ crack and onto his balls. It’s fucking beautiful and it makes Derek growl low in his chest and devour his lover once again.

Stiles grips the blankets in front of him, knees shaking, and incoherent words flowing from his lips. The whole scene is filthy. Dirty. But it’s them. It’s their time apart ripping through them. It’s Derek’s need to scent his lover, feel him, taste him. Make him his after so long. 

And it’s Stiles’ frustration, his love, his want for Derek all those years finally breaking through. 

“Derek….as...ohmygod...much as I love what...jesuschrist...you’re doing...could we um...FUCK...get on with the sex now?” Stiles stammers out, moaning and blabbering between words. 

Derek licks one last long line over his hole and sits up, smacking Stiles’ ass, HARD. “Bossy, aren't we?”

“Der…” Stiles turns, flopping onto his back, his chest sweaty and pink and eyes sleepy with happiness. “Your mouth is something out of heaven, but if you don't get in my ass I may explode.”

“You already have.” Derek smirks, leaning down to brush his lips against Stiles’. “You’re lying in the wet spot.”

“Mmmm.” Stiles wiggles. “Don’t care.” He spreads his legs, his feet flat on the mattress, his impressive cock at half mast. 

“You want something, Stiles?” Derek licks his lower lip and Stiles can taste himself on the tip of Derek’s tongue. 

“You. And your werewolf cock, tearing me in half, please.” Stiles smirks and Derek’s claws slowly extend and slide down Stiles’ pale perfect neck. 

“I could lose control you know.” Derek warns. 

“I’ve been in more danger than this, Derek.” Stiles bites down hard on Derek’s lower lip. “Take your best shot.”

Derek reaches down, grabbing Stiles by the thighs, and pushes his legs up to his ears. He bends so easily, and Derek can't help but imagine all the kinds of positions he will be able to get Stiles in in the future. But for now, he just wants to see Stiles’ face as he fucks him. 

Derek's cock is at full attention, jutting out and pushing his pre-come all over Stiles’ hole. He can feel it winking at him; opening and closing, inviting Derek in. Stiles smells like everything that makes Derek drunk. Innocence, even though they had done this earlier in the day already. But to Derek, even though Stiles is clearly a man now, his shoulders broader and his limbs more muscular, he would always be that buzz cut haired kid with the hoodie he met in the woods years ago. 

The first push takes both their breaths away. Stiles inhales, his eyes sliding shut and his ass is like a death vice around Derek’s dick. Derek stops breathing for a moment, unable to get halfway into Stiles. 

“Stiles….Christ you’re tight.” Derek leans down into the crook of his neck and inhales deeply. Stiles smells like a mixture of them together now and its everything Derek’s wolf has yearned for. 

“Move. Please. Don’t be gentle. There will be time for...ahchrist...gentle.” Stiles moans. Derek lifts his head to look in his eyes. 

“Time?”

Stiles reaches up, cradling Derek’s cheek in his hand. “You think now that I’ve seen that monster werewolf cock, I’m just gonna run for the hills? No way, dude. You got me now. Forever.”

Derek’s eyes flash and with one hard push he’s balls deep inside the man underneath him. Stiles throws his head back, eyes squeezed shut, and neck elongated and Derek can see his pulse point pounding through pale skin. Derek latches onto it, biting, licking, sucking as he angles his hips just right, getting a steady rhythm of pushing in and out, but mostly just in as deep as he can go inside Stiles. 

Stiles’ legs wrap around Derek’s neck, keeping his face and mouth close to his. He mouths at Derek’s lips, unable to do much but moan and writhe and keen with every thrust of Derek’s dick inside him. The sweat pouring off them is making the room a hot humid mess of sex and lust. 

Derek should have opened a window. 

When Stiles comes he digs his blunt nails into the back of Derek’s head; gripping and pulling at his hair causing Derek’s head to be pulled back, his mouth hanging open as he feels Stiles shoot white ropes between their bodies. Derek’s fangs come out full force and snap into the air, trying to gain control again and get released from Stiles’ grasp. Stiles finally lets go, his body limp and spent as Derek continues to slam into him, but now with far more vigor as his own orgasm brims on the surface.

When Stiles rakes his nails down Derek’s back, his legs slowly begin to slip down his arms to Derek’s sides. He’s exhausted, Derek can feel it, but when Stiles’ lips wrap around the shell of his ear and he hears his pornographic voice whisper “Fill me up,” Derek loses it and roars, the walls shaking around them, emptying inside Stiles ass. It just keeps coming, no pun intended, spurting out and coating the inside of Stiles’ ass. 

When the fire erupts in his stomach, and he feels the swell at his, what he assumed was empty, ball sac, Derek realizes a little too late what is happening. 

Stiles pulls back from Derek’s neck and stares at him wide eyed. “Is that….?”

Derek nods, his entire bodying trembling. “Don’t move. I...I’m sorry. I can’t...I didn't know…” The feeling is so extreme he feels tears brimming in the corner of his eyes. He’s going to literally tear Stiles apart. Pain is not something he gets off on. Well maybe a little bit of pain but not like this. 

“Shhh...it’s ok. It’s...fuck...It’s huge. But God, it feels so good.” Stiles moans, his arms stretching up above his head and grabbing at the head board. 

“It...does?” Derek asks, surprised. 

“Mmmm, fuck yes. I feel so...open. Connected.” Stiles blinks, eyes so amber, Derek thinks for a split moment, what an amazing wolf Stiles would be. “Have you ever…”

“No.” Derek quickly answers. “No one.”

Stiles smiles widely. “Told you. I’m your mate.”

Derek growls, leaning down, licking a line straight from Stiles’ shoulder up to his ear. “Mine.” 

Stiles nods furiously. “Yours. Always. Fuck…”

And then like a volcano finally erupting after years of being dormant, Derek comes again, filling Stiles up from his knot to the point he can feel it spilling out from around his dick. 

It’s like they are both possessed by some sort of demon or spirit because of the incoherent words they are both spewing as Derek continues to unload inside Stiles. When his balls are completely dry and Stiles is overflowing, Derek finally rolls them onto their sides, wrapping his arms around the boy he waited so long for. Stiles murmurs something along the lines of ‘sleep and sticky’ and is snoring before Derek can even slide his eyes shut. 

With his hand sprawled across Stiles’ chest he can feel as his heart returns to its normal erratic beat. When his breathing finally mirrors his bedmate’s, Derek allows himself to drift off to sleep.  
  


_*****Boys only want love if it's torture, Don't say I didn't say I didn't warn you…*****_

Stiles awakens to coldness next to him. He rolls, yawning, to find the bed empty next to him. He frowns, sitting up, the sheet tangled around his midsection. The sun is bright and warm coming in from outside. It’s still warm on the East coast in September and Stiles welcomes it with open arms. He listens for a moment, to hear nothing but silence throughout the apartment.

He finally swings his legs over the side of the bed and wraps Derek’s dark blue sheet around himself. It’s stained with the acts of last night all over it and quite frankly it smells like a whorehouse, but Stiles doesn't care. It smells like Derek. He pads barefoot out of the bedroom, down the hallway and into the open floor plan of Derek’s apartment. He honestly didn't get to see much of it last night with all the yelling and arguing and then amazing sex that was had, but now in the daylight he can see just Derek how has made a home here. 

There is a brown couch, nothing fancy with a wooden coffee table set in front of it with a few thick books strewn across it in true Derek Hale style. He has a TV, not big or anything, and Stiles wonders if he has ever even turned it on. To the side of what Derek has made his living room is a small two seater table with a bowl of apples set in the middle of it. Granny Smith. Stiles’ favorite. And right across is a small kitchen with a stove, double sink and small up and down fridge. 

Derek has a coffee maker and a microwave and even a toaster. Derek has a bin for garbage and a second identical one next to it for what Stiles assumes is recyclables. 

Derek has...a life here. And he has had it for years without Stiles. And for the first time since he had thrown himself back into Derek’s life, Stiles wonders if in fact there is room for himself in Derek’s little world. Maybe it was too late after all. 

“Stiles?” Derek emerges from the bathroom in the hallway with just boxer briefs on and even though Stiles is fully fucked from last night, the sight of Derek’s chiseled abs makes his mouth water. 

“Uh, hi. You weren't in bed.” Stiles bundles the sheet around himself more. 

“Had to pee. I was gonna make coffee?” Derek motions toward the kitchen and Stiles nods wondering for a moment why this is so awkward. He follows him into the kitchen and watches as Derek maneuvers around like Stiles is sure he has done a million times before. As the machine begins to brew, Derek finally turns to him. “You okay?”

Stiles nods again. It’s all he can do. 

“Stiles, listen…” Derek begins, swallowing hard. “About last night. If I was too rough or if it was too much, I’ll understand. Heat of the moment, all that.”

Stiles frowns. “That’s what you think that was?”

“No!” Derek yells. “No. I just...you seem…”

“Freaked out? Yeah, I kinda am. But a lot has happened in the past 24 hours, you know? I find you again, we fuck, we fight, I almost kill you with my magic, you almost eat me alive with your werewolf fangs, we fuck again and you KNOT me. So yeah, I’m more than a little freaked out. Aren't you?” Stiles sits delicately on the arm of the couch. 

“Sure.” Derek leans against the doorway of the kitchen, keeping his distance from Stiles. “But I’m happy too.”

“You’ve really made a life for yourself here, Derek. Where...where do I fit in?” Stiles looks down at his hands peeking their way out from underneath his sheet. 

“Stiles…” Derek walks toward him and kneels down in front of him. “Look at me.” 

Stiles eyes meet his and it’s almost too much. Derek’s eyes are so green in the sunlight. It makes his heart yearn. 

“I was an idiot back then. I was so hung up on the fact of you being so young and you knowing the truth that I let it scare me away from you. And now that I have you back, I can't help but feel that this is some kind of..-”

“-Fate?” Stiles half smiles.

“Sure. If that’s what you want to call it. But fuck the university and the student teacher laws. You're an adult. I’m an adult. And if you honestly think that’s going to stop me and I’m just going to let you go again, you're crazy.” Derek snakes his hands underneath the sheet and takes Stiles’ hands in his. “But if you don’t want this, tell me. I’m not going to force you to do something you don't want to do. I lost you once. I’m sure I can do it again.”

“I do.” Stiles whispers. “I want this. I need you. I mean, sure I handled all that shit back in Beacon Hills myself, but I always felt like there was something missing. Something off. Like I wasn't complete. It’s what drew me to New York. And now I know why.” Stiles pauses. “My mother was your mother’s emissary, wasn't she?”

Derek nods. “And after she died, Deaton was.”

“I...I think I’m yours.” Stiles swallows hard. 

Derek nods. “I think so too.”

“And this is normal for emissaries and their...wolves to fuck?”

Derek smirks. “I’ve heard it’s happened before. Normally they just become like family. Like how my mother felt about yours. They were best friends.”

“And what are we?” Stiles asks softly. 

Derek leans forward, pressing his forehead to Stiles’. “Idiots.”

Stiles huffs out a laugh. “It’s so fucking true.”

Derek rubs his nose against Stiles’ affectionately before placing a soft kiss on it. “I’m not saying this is going to be easy. Hell, we don't even know each other anymore. But I wanna do this. I want you.”

“You may not like me.”

“I highly doubt that.” He raises his eyebrows and looks into Stiles’ eyes. “So? We gonna do this? Or are we gonna chicken out. Again?”

Stiles purses his lips together and nods and it reminds Derek of all those years ago when Stiles was just a teenage boy coming into his own. He’s grown up so much since then. And Derek can’t wait to see the man he is meant to be. 

“Good. Now I need coffee.” Derek stands and reaches his hand out for Stiles’. Stiles blinks and wraps his hand around Derek’s. He has to admit. It feels good.  
  


**************************

**Epilogue:**   


_*****Hey let your honesty shine, shine, shine...Like it shines on me. The only living boy in New York...*****_

**Four years later:**  
Stiles hears the front door open and butterflies form in his stomach. It’s been four years now but it honestly just feels like yesterday that it was his first night in this apartment getting manhandled against the wall. So much has changed since then. And so much more change to come.

“Stiles?” 

Derek’s voice filters in from the foyer and Stiles grins. “In the kitchen!”

Derek leans against the doorjamb of the kitchen and watches as Stiles slices a yellow pepper. “You’re cooking?”

“Mmm hmm.” He concentrates on his slices as it wouldn't be the first time he’s cut himself with a knife. 

“Mmm. And how much did you ACTUALLY do and how much had magical help?” Stiles feels Derek’s breathe on his neck as he makes an accurate accusation. 

“Not tonight. Tonight’s special so I didn't use any magic.” Stiles promises. He turns, a piece of pepper between his fingers, hovering it in front of Derek’s mouth. When his tongue reaches out to take it, Stiles’ feels goosebumps form on his skin. 

“Tonight’s special, huh? Why is it so special?” Derek leans back against the counter in back of him. It’s a tight space in the kitchen. Derek’s been wanting to move for a while now, but Stiles doesn't want to. He likes it small. It feels more homey. He frowns at his boyfriend. 

“You forgot?”

A small devilish smile forms on Derek’s lips and he reaches into his back pocket. “Oh you mean our anniversary?” 

Stiles eyes him. “What’s in your back pocket?”

“Something.” 

Stiles pouts but as soon as Derek begins to slide down onto one knee he instantly panics. “No, no no. Don’t. Oh my god. Don’t. Fuck. Shit.” Stiles flails his arms and runs from the kitchen. 

“Um, so this didn't go the way I planned.” Derek stands back up and remains in the doorway of the kitchen as Stiles paces the living room. “What’s the matter?”

Stiles groans, scrubbing his face with his hands. “I WAS SUPPOSED TO PROPOSE TO YOU! I HAD THIS WHOLE DINNER PLANNED AND I BOUGHT A RING TOO! YOU’RE ALWAYS THE ROMANTIC ONE. FOR ONCE I JUST WANTED TO BE THE ROMANTIC ONE. I WANTED TO SURPRISE YOU FOR ONCE. GOD YOU ARE SO INFURIATING!”

“So let me get this straight…” Derek walks slowly to him. “You’re mad at me because I was going to propose to you?”

“YES!”

Derek shakes his head. “You’re insane.”

“No! You don't get to be all practical and zen wolf about this! This was important to me!” Stiles yells, his arms still flailing. 

“You can still propose, Stiles. I’ll say yes.” 

“No, fuck you. No. It’s ruined now. This whole night is ruined. I didn't even use ANY magic today! Fuck!” Stiles flops down onto the couch, face first. 

Derek smirks and licks his lips at the sight of the patch of skin he can see from the bunched up shirt around Stiles’ back, showing his crack just the tiniest bit over his jeans. He walks, very carefully, over to his over-dramatic boyfriend and very lightly runs his finger over his crack. “I wouldn't say this night is ruined.”

Stiles groans into the couch. “You can't fix this by fucking me.”

“How about you fucking me then?”

Stiles turns over abruptly, eyes wide. “Really?”

Derek hardly ever bottoms. Only on really special occasions. It was nearly a year before Stiles was inside him for the first time. Something about werewolf scent, and control blah blah. 

“Mmm hmm. On one condition.”

Stiles narrows his eyes. 

“Let me propose.”

Stiles screams and throws a couch pillow in Derek’s face. “See? You’re a briber! Fucking briber! Why can't I propose!?”

“Because. I said so.”

“AH! You’re infuriating. FINE. But I get to fuck you first.” Stiles jumps up and grabs Derek’s hand, dragging him down the hallway. “And it’s gonna be for a long fucking time. I jerked off twice today.” He turns to him as they enter the bedroom. “And my ring better be fucking sweet, cause mine rules.”

It was sweet. In fact it was so sweet it made Stiles cry because when he showed Derek the ring he was going to propose with, it was in fact the same exact ring. A thick silver band with triskelions carved into it. Specially made.

By the same jeweler. 

As Stiles makes love to Derek that night; their ringed now engaged hands grasping each other’s; Stiles realizes that those 4 years apart were exactly what they needed to get where they are now. Stiles needed to grow on his own, make his own choices, defend himself before he could ever let someone else do it. 

And Stiles knows Derek needed to grow too. He needed to learn to take care of himself without his family. He needed to take care of himself before he could take care of someone else. He needed to let go and move forward without anyone’s help but his own. 

But they both ended up right where they were supposed to be. Together. 

Just like their mothers’ foresaw.


End file.
